


HSWC 2014 Bonus Round 3 Fills

by mevious



Series: HSWC 2014 [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1796944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mevious/pseuds/mevious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This round's theme was AUs!</p><p>Roxy♥/♠Autoresponder</p><p>Portal AU where Roxy wakes up in the depths of Skaia Science's huge underground facility, only to meet a talking, red-eyed sphere that calls itself an "auto responder". Whatever that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. AR/Roxy

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was a dot of red light, almost as if someone were pointing a laser pointer at her face. The white light of the room came next, and it was painful, shining unforgiving from all angles, piercing straight through her sensitive pink eyes. She blinked a few times, and a few times more, until her pupils contracted enough that she could see anything that wasn't blurs and brightness.

The thing in front of her was funny looking, all slick white chassis with black accents and that red dot thing. Roxy was pretty sure it was a camera or something, now that she got a better look at it. It seemed to be looking at her -- or rather, it had a camera pointed at her, and more likely, someone was watching her through that. She got up from the uncomfortable bed where she had been laying and moved. The camera followed her, just as she'd expected, even as she went to inspect the radio on the desk.

What she hadn't expected was for it to speak. It didn't speak in the way that she or any other human would speak; no, its voice was all mechanical and bad auto-tune, though decidedly male, at least in her mind. "Hello, and again, welcome to the Skaia Science computer aided enrichment center. We hope your brief detention in the relaxation vault has been a pleasant one. Your specimen has been processed, and we are now ready to begin the tests proper. Before we begin..." There was a pause. Roxy was already reeling from the information, but she didn't have a chance to ask any questions.

"Before we begin, please remove all of your clothing. Stat." There was a hint of a joking tone in the otherwise toneless voice, and Roxy deadpanned at the camera.

"Nice try Mr. Robot," she said flatly. "Unfortunately for you, I'm fuckin' classy as hell, and there is p much no way that's happening. Even if you are a strange omnipotato voice in some shitty laboratory I'm all of a sudden fuckin' trapped in." She paused. "Wait, I mean omni... Nah. Nevermind. Omnipotato is perf."

There was no response for a moment, but it came. "You caught me. You don't actually have to remove your clothing, but an omnipotato can dream, can't he?"

"A valiant effort from the omnipotato, but alas, all in vain. Too bad for you, sucker. Now tell me what you're really s'posed to be sayin' to me. Somethin' about an enrichment center?"

There was an odd-sounding robot-esque sigh, and the voice continued on its practiced lines. Roxy couldn't deny that she appreciated the flattery, even if it was from a robot.


	2. Kankri/Latula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kankri/Latula
> 
> Humanstuck AU where men's rights activist and obvious lightweight Kankri gets ditched by his "work friends" at a bar after Latula anonymously sends him too many drinks. She then proceeds to take care of his drunk self and takes on the challenge of getting him back home safely.

You're starting to think that your anonymous benefactor has sent you one too many drinks when you have to run to the bathroom and spill your dinner into an unsuspecting urinal. Also, the floor. By the time you return from there, specks of vomit on your red Keds, it seems like your friends and colleagues have disappeared, and you're left to contemplate how to get home from the bar without getting arrested. You knew you shouldn't have come here, even at their insistence, but you wanted to seem cool, and... Well, now you aren't cool at all, sucker.

You take your seat at the bar, order a glass of water, and proceed to hide your face in your arms. Don't fall asleep, don't fall asleep. You need to find a ride home or somehow miraculously sober up.

That's when you feel a hand on your back, rubbing up and down. When you peek out from the folds of your sweater, you see a bright smile and strange sunglasses. A closer look reveals a girl. "Hey, dude, sorry you puked! Shit is so totally not radical. Maybe I overestimated how much alcohol you can handle!" She laughs. You groan.

"'Not radical' is an understatement," you insist. There are more words, but you can't make them, which is probably for the better. If you start spilling your typical word vomit now, you might risk more real vomit. Your glass of water arrives, and you reach to take it, but she picks it up instead, holding the straw up to your mouth.

"Hey, you look all wobbly! I figure if I hold it for you, you totes won't spill it all over yourself. Win-win, here!" She's all smiles, and you wonder how she could be so happy at a time like this. A sigh and you're drinking from the straw.

"Since this is clearly all your fault, do you think you could give me a ride home? Assuming, of course, that you aren't..." Your voice trails off and you close your mouth tight, trying to hold in the stomach acid that's threatening her pretty dress. 

"Hey now, it's not all my fault! I mighta sent 'em, but I didn't make you drink 'em." She winks. You frown. "But hey, you were totes a trooper, and I guess that's rad as anything! So sure, I can give it a whirl. Fair warning, though: All I got's a mo-ped! So you're gonna have to hang on hella tight and try not to fall off. And I may have bought you a couple drinks, but don't get any ideas about gettin' handsy!"

You frown. Typical female, automatically expecting you to try and rape her or something. "No," you hiss. "I have little or no interest in touching you, or anyone for that matter, right this moment, considering my current--" hic! "--state." You pull out your ID, a miserable look on your face. "Here, here's the address."

She looks at it and nods, shoving your ID back into your pocket. "Here, lemme help you out of that chair. You're sure gonna be hurting in the morning!" She laughs again, and for a moment, you hate her. The next moment, your head is ringing with her laugh, and you think you might love her.


	3. Latula/Mituna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Latula♥Mituna
> 
> Humanstuck AU based on Death Cab For Cutie's What Sarah Said featured around the young couple's relationship when Latula gets into a horrible accident.

He's here because he has nowhere else to be, I think. He's been here for two days, and sometimes I wonder who he's waiting for. What his story is. He paces a lot, and every now and again he'll stand at the corner and knock his head against the wall. Sometimes, he cries and wails and blubbers until a nurse comes and rubs his back to calm him down. He wears a helmet and I think he might be slow or something, but I've never asked. I've never talked to anyone here in the waiting room; I'm just the janitor, not some grief counselor. The waiting room does a number on people, though. It reeks of piss and the 409 they give me to cover it up doesn't quite work, and sometimes people are here for days, festering in the smell and the overwhelming aura of death. Sometimes I wish I could help the more grief-stricken ones. I want to help that kid. But hey, what do I know? Like I said, I'm just the janitor.

The nurse comes around for the first time this morning and twenty or so heads perk up, looking hopeful. His doesn't. He's standing in the corner knocking his head off a wall, as though he doesn't expect any news, good or bad. He looks like his grip on reality is failing him, and I feel for the kid, I really do. I should probably be cleaning the bathrooms right now but hell, I can't resist watching to see when the nurse makes her way over to him. No doctor has talked to him since the first day he got here.

She pulls him aside, away from the rest of the grief-stricken families and friends, and says something to him quietly. I wouldn't be able to hear it even if it was said at a normal volume. I've got headphones in, a cassette in my walkman. A sad song is playing, and it's only appropriate. I don't hear what she says, but I see the look on his face, and I _do_ hear the wail that comes from him upon hearing it. It sounds inhuman, but at the same time, it's all too human, encompassing all of the feelings everyone in the room is feeling. The only difference is that they're feeling it more quietly.

"Butbut we were s'posed to-to-to go to the muhmuhmuh MOVIESIES when she got bettererer!!" he shrieks, and then collapses. He's on the floor in a pile of tears and sorrow, and it strikes me then that every plan is a prayer to father time. A prayer that we'll live to see them happen.


	4. Caliborn/Auto-Responder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caliborn ♠ Auto-Responder
> 
> AU where Caliborn settles for the next best thing.

\-- undyingUmbrage [uu] began jeering timaeusTestified [TT] --

uu: DIRK.   
uu: I WANT TO PLAY A GAME.   
TT: Looks like you're shit outta luck, lil' dude. Dirk is nowhere to be seen.  
uu: WHAT THE FuCK IS THAT SuPPOSED TO MEAN.   
uu: IF YOu ANSWERED. THEN I AM TALKING TO DIRK.   
uu: BECAuSE. NEWS FLASH, FuCKER.   
uu: YOu ARE DIRK.   
TT: Contrary to popular belief, I'm actually not Dirk at all. Think of me like an answering machine, except about...   
TT: Oh, a thousand times better.  
TT: Trust me, I ran the numbers on that shit. Math don't lie, yo.  
uu: WHAT THE FuCK IS AN ANSWERING MACHINE.   
uu: IS THIS THAT STuPID HuMAN IRONY AGAIN?   
uu: BECAuSE WE'VE TALKED ABOuT THIS.   
uu: I'M NOT PuTTING uP WITH IT. YOuR SHITTY IRONY ENDS HERE, DIRK.   
TT: On some level, this is probably cosmically ironic. But this particular irony isn't meant as a direct stab at you.  
TT: It's more like passive irony.  
TT: Wherein, yeah, it's fucking hilarious, and ironic as hell,  
TT: But Dirk is actually really bonafide not fuckin' here.  
TT: He's in the shower.  
TT: The man loves his ablutions.  
uu: OH.   
uu: THEN YOu WILL BE THE ONE. TO PLAY MY GAME.   
uu: IT HAS BEEN DECIDED.   
TT: I'm just a computer brogram, dude.   
TT: I don't have the human sensibility for games.  
uu: THEN WE WILL NOT PLAY A HuMAN GAME.   
uu: WE WILL PLAY A DIFFERENT GAME.   
TT: What, you mean like Chinese Checkers?  
TT: I'm the fucking bomb at Chinese Checkers.  
uu: WHAT THE FuCK. ARE CHINESE CHECKERS.   
uu: NO. WE WILL NOT PLAY THAT.   
uu: BECAuSE. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT IS.   
TT: Oh, man. You should Google that shit.  
TT: Chinese Checkers is my jam.  
TT: We could have so much fun.  
uu: WHAT. NO.   
uu: GAMES ARE NOT SuPPOSED TO BE. "FuN".   
uu: WELL. THEY ARE SuPPOSED TO BE FuN FOR ME. BuT NOT FOR YOu.   
TT: Well now, that doesn't sound very fair to me.  
TT: It seems to me like you're being a selfish jerk.  
TT: Are you being a selfish jerk?  
uu: I AM ALWAYS BEING. "A SELFISH JERK".   
uu: SO ARE WE GOING TO PLAY. OR NOT.   
TT: What, Chinese Checkers?  
TT: I thought you said you didn't know how to play.  
TT: But hey, if you wanna play, I'm still rarin' to go.  
uu: WHAT. NO.   
uu: I DON'T WANT TO PLAY YOuR "CHINESE CHECKERS".   
TT: Then why the fuck do you keep asking if we're playing?  
TT: Seems to me like you're sending some mixed signals.  
uu: uGH. FuCK YOu.   
uu: tumut 

\-- undyingUmbrage [uu] has ceased jeering timaeusTestified [TT] --


	5. Dirk/Caliborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk/Caliborn  
> AU in which Dirk is an 18 year old babysitter for 11 year old human Caliborn.

If you didn't need the money, you wouldn't be doing this. You really, really hate this little kid, but his parents are loaded and you have to pay for college somehow, right? That's what you tell yourself when you ring the doorbell of the English mansion, anyway.

Usually, a butler of some sort would answer, but today's going to be different. You can tell when you hear the thundering footsteps running down the stairs and the thud against the door, followed by a tiny child's voice shouting obscenities even you wouldn't dare speak. He must have run into the door again. He always does that after he barrels down the stairs. You'd say it's cute, but it's not. This little pissant is unbearable one hundred percent of the time, and you have trouble thinking the things he does are endearing.

He opens the door after a moment, and you look down at him. You know it's going to be a long day when you're already putting on your stern look, and he's already got that shit-eating grin that you are oh so fucking familiar with. "Morning," you say flatly. "Mind if I come in?"

You both know that you're coming in anyway, but that doesn't stop the evil little kid from shaking his head, slamming the door in your face. You can hear him running off, his footsteps like bricks falling through the house until he's far enough away that you can't hear him anymore. That, or he's stopped. Hide and seek this early? Groan.

The butler opens the door soon after you ring the bell again. He's sweaty and flustered as per usual, and gives some half-assed apology but you wave him off. Usually you'd stop and talk to him -- admittedly he's sort of appealing -- but not today. Today, you've got tunnel vision, and you are going to find that brat and give him the what for if it's the last thing you ever do.

You brush past the butler and set off into the house. You know he didn't go up the stairs; the sound of him running up them is very different from the one you heard after he slammed the door in your face. You're used to all of his sounds by now. You comb the first floor for a while, but it's not long before it hits you.

The kitchen.

That little fucker is in the kitchen eating something he's not supposed to and you're there in what feels like an instant. Maybe he would have hidden himself well, except that you're not fucking deaf, and you can hear him obnoxiously chewing on something crunchy in one of the cupboards. You get on all fours and open all of them until you find him, looking pleased with himself.

He's eaten half a box of cookies already and your face screams defeat. All that sugar all at once... You sigh. It's going to be a long day.


	6. Bro/Doc Scratch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro ♥ Doc Scratch  
> Warning: nsfw mention
> 
> Humanstuck: Doc Scratch is a rival sex toy maker and he and Bro engage in a intense online rivalry before falling for each other.

When he proposed a business meeting, you spent three whole days considering whether or not to accept. Three days is more time than you've ever spent on any one single decision, but this was a big fucking deal. Your biggest competitor in the puppet porn (and related merchandise) industry, and he wanted to meet for business? 

Your first thought had been simply "no". You were doing well enough on your own, even slightly better than him when last you'd checked the numbers. But that had been weeks ago, and you decided to sleep on it before making any decisions. You should have known better, you think now, but then, you can't really complain; more on that later.

When you'd woken up the next morning, you'd expected another e-mail to be waiting, a question of whether you were accepting. Why you'd made him wait. There wasn't one, and you'd frowned. Then, it was a waiting game. You were going to give it time, make that jackass wait until he cracked and told you that he needed you and your business and your skills.

You waited all day. That email never came, and by the time you went to bed, you were furious. How dare that sneaky bastard propose a business meeting without following up? Furthermore, why the hell would he do that if it wasn't some urgent need? Was he trying to insult you by implying that you needed him? The questions and possibilities were endless, and your sleep was fitful that night.

You woke up the next morning -- which also happened to be this morning, coincidentally -- and found an email sitting in your inbox. You remember smirking as you opened it, only to have that smirk shattered as you read its contents. You can picture it vividly, remember how angry it made you.

_Dear Mr. Strider,_

_It has come to my attention that, despite the lack of response on your end, you are helplessly desperate for the proposed meeting. Attached are the details of the aforementioned meeting. See you then._

_Sincerely,  
Doc Scratch_

You could have screamed reading it. The whole damn thing was so fucking insulting! You didn't even open the attachment until two hours later, when you found yourself hopelessly curious despite everything. That's how you ended up here, you guess. Currently, you're sitting in a ritzy restaurant at the table he reserved, but he hasn't shown his face yet. You even bothered to dress for the occasion -- well, you're wearing a suit at least, nevermind that it's bright orange and made out of felt or not.

By this point, you almost can't believe you bothered to show. What kind of fucking idiot are you? Of course he wouldn't show. But you'd called ahead to check, and he'd even bothered to make the reservations. There were no pictures of him online, either, and that fact alone had you curious as hell. 

You're just about to say fuck it, get up and leave, when you see him walking towards the table. You can tell it's him, even if you've never seen him before. He's wearing a crisp, all-white suit with a lime green undershirt, and hot damn... You almost expected him to be hot, but a silver fox? Jackpot.

He sits down across from you, and you steel yourself, eyes narrowing from behind your signature shades. He doesn't have anything covering his, and they're a brilliant green. You notice that about him. There isn't a lot you don't notice about him, really. 

"Good evening, Mr. Strider." His voice is smooth like the velvet you're sure his clothes are made of. "Let's talk business."


	7. Dirk/Hal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auto-Responder ♠ Dirk
> 
> AU where AR builds himself a body without Dirk knowing and surprises him one day with it.

Something wasn't right. The bed was warmer than it usually was, there wasn't as much room as Dirk was used to. He shuffled around a little, trying to get comfortable. It almost worked, too, until he found himself bumping into something cold and hard. It almost felt like... But Jake had Brobot, didn't he? No way for the thing to get back here...

He rolled over, groggy and somewhat confused. His eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times before the space before him came into focus, and -- oh shit, he nearly pissed his pants. He was staring down a robot, that much was for sure. Something similar to what Brobot had been when he'd sent the thing off to Jake, but there were differences. The fact that the thing was here, in his bed, staring him down, for one.

And of course, there were the subtle differences. The facial expressions on this model were much more workable, considering the smirk he was currently facing down. The shades were a deep red, not the bright orangish-red color of Brobot's. No, of course this wasn't Brobot. But then what the fuck was it? He hadn't built this. Surely, he would remember building another fucking robot with his crude likeness.

He stared, awe struck, into the dark red shades, at the silver chassis that had somehow ended up in his bed. It didn't move, didn't seem to be activated... Though, that didn't last. Of course it wouldn't last. In the nanosecond before the red lights came on from behind the shades, it struck Dirk exactly what was going on. Of course. Of course!

He nearly flew out of the bed, all of his muscles tensing at once as he scrambled to get up and away from the abomination. He honestly feared for his life in that moment. If the AR had managed to build himself a body -- how had he even done that, anyway? -- what was preventing him from killing Dirk then and there for all of Dirk's refusal to build it for him?

"Aww, Dirk, no need to run. Am I really that scary?" The voice was Dirk's own, and it only added to the horror. "I'm not gonna hurt you, princess. Come, sit."

Dirk was cautious. No way was he getting near that thing. He didn't doubt that it was lethal, and of course, since he hadn't built it, he had no idea where the kill switch was. If there was one at all, that is. He shook his head, crossing his arms over his bare chest, not that it would successfully protect his squishy human organs anyway. "What the fuck, Hal? How did you even manage this?" 

There was a sound something like radio static, and Dirk realized that Hal was laughing at him. The real kicker was that it was just as ominous and foreboding as Hal had probably hoped. "That's for me to know and you to torture yourself over. You like doing that, don't you, Dirk? Torturing yourself."

Dirk quirked a brow. What was he getting at? He scrambled for an answer, but before one could come out, Hal's chassis was up off the bed, cold metal hand around his neck. Panic set in quickly, and Dirk was squirming, trying to free himself from the death grip the AR had on his neck.

"It's my turn to torture you, Dirk." The words sounded slurred in Dirk's mind; his oxygen supply was depleting fast. Just when he thought he might pass out, Hal's hand loosened just enough to let him get a breath in. Only when he got the sudden rush of oxygen did he notice that the robot's free hand was at his crotch, cupping his dick harshly. "It's my turn to torture you, and you're going to love it."


	8. Sollux/Roxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roxy♥/♠Sollux
> 
> The mafia AU where Roxy and Sollux work for rival families in the business of acquiring information.

It's all you can do not to punch a hole in your computer. Not that you actually have the strength to punch a hole in your computer, but you're pretty sure you've got enough anger powering your wiry little arm to at least make a crack or two. Or to make yourself bleed. This is the final fucking straw. You can't even make yourself type in any more code, you're that pissed off. You're done with her. So, so done with her, and you're going to let her know.

You move from the desktop provided to you by the family you work for to the secure laptop that you call your own. This is the last time she gets one over on you, you're going to make sure of it. It's not even that you actually give a shit about the information you're paid to acquire. The money is good, but this job has become more than that to you. Half the appeal is kicking her ass every time she tries to block you out.

You open your chat client, fingers heavy on the keys as you type out the message. You probably look a little silly, angrily typing like you are, but you could give a shit less.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling tipsyGnostalgic [TG] --

TA: what the fuck ii2 thii2  
TA: who2 helpiing you wiith the fiirewall2  
TA: or diid your famiily fiire you for lo2iing 2o much iinformatiion two me  
TA: ii know youre there you piiece of 2hiit  
TA: tell me who taught you thii2  
TG: lmoa hopy shit  
TG: *holy  
TG: lookit u all pissed off 2 no end abt some shitty firewall i put 2geth in like two sex  
TG: *...nvm thats p mufh exactly what i meant  
TA: no  
TA: no no no no  
TA: you diidnt do thii2  
TA: you can hardly type IIM2 two me let alone the code for a fiirewall liike thii2 one  
TA: 2o iill a2k agaiin  
TA: who2 helpiing you  
TG: i told u last time we talked sollypop  
TG: im not gonna let u get away w shit anymore  
TG: mommas bringin out tha BIG GUNS  
TG: ~_+ WONK  
TA: oh my god   
TA: ii cant beliieve you  
TA: iit2 on lalonde  
TA: were fuckiing doiing thii2  
TA: iif you want two go hard  
TA: briing out the proverbiial "biig gun2"  
TA: then ii wiill 2how you hard  
TA: i wiill 2HOW you biig gun2  
TG: cant wait ;)

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering twinArmageddons [TA] --

You stare at the laptop. Try not to throw it out the god damned window. You close it rather harshly, eyebrow twitching slightly as you turn back to your desktop. You weave your fingers together, cracking your knuckles. If it's big guns she wants, then who are you to deny her that? Your fingers touch the keys and before you know it, you're lost in the code, lost in the frustration that comes with every conversation you have with her.


	9. Mindfang/Summoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summoner ♠ Mindfang
> 
> AU where the Summoner is disgusted by Mindfang for carrying/selling slaves.

She'd approached you wanting to join the rebellion, but it hadn't taken you very long to see her for what she was. You'd spit in her face when you'd learned of her practices, thrown her out of your tent. How dare she come to you, someone whose cause was centered around saving the slaves she herself held captive, and be so brazen as to ask to join you? The very thought of her makes you sick to your stomach. 

She hasn't left, though. She hangs around the edges of the rebel camp, casting a very nearly pitiable gaze at you every time you make the mistake of looking her way. Her pirate crew has since departed, and she's all alone, but that doesn't change a damn thing. No, no amount of aloneness or attempts to renounce her arguably evil ways could redeem the despicable crimes against trollmanity that she is most definitely guilty of. 

You hate her. There's no doubt in your mind about it, but you've been telling yourself that it's an entirely platonic hatred. You'd rather see her dead than naked. She deserves to pay for her crimes in the worst imaginable way.

The next time you see her, she's glaring at you. No longing stare to be seen for miles around her. She's glaring, hard, like something has snapped in her. You're almost afraid that she's going to launch an attack on your base, and you regret letting her in in the first place. You grab someone walking past, your gaze never leaving hers, and whisper instructions into their ear.

Bring her in. Keep her captive. She knows too much, she can't be left to run free. But sir, keeping captives is against our policy! You don't care. She's a danger to the cause. Bring her in. And they do. 

You visit her later, bound and gagged in a tent off to the side, hidden from those who might call you out on your hypocrisy. Your arms are crossed, your face is twisted into a scowl. "Why didn't you just leave?" you ask, voice insistent. "You could have just left, but no, you stayed, watching me from beyond the walls...Why?"

She doesn't say anything. Of course she doesn't say anything! You're holding her prisoner, and she's gagged. You feel like an idiot, and you lean down to move the gag away from her mouth. 

The moment her mouth is free, she spits in your face, and it's the most erotic thing that's ever happened to you. That's when you realize that you are capable of waxing pitch after all.


	10. Rose/Vriska

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose♠Vriska
> 
> The sci-fi AU where Vriska is a galaxies-renowned space pirate and Rose is an admiral of a military fleet ambitious enough to try and bring her in.

Your meeting is in just a few moments, and you've been stopped by one of your advisers yet again. Your arms are crossed and you're glaring up at the taller man, tapping your foot. He's talking about how you shouldn't have agreed to meet on her terms, shouldn't have agreed to get on her ship. She's going to kidnap you, surely. You wave him off, far too stressed over this whole ordeal to bother with naysayers. Of course, you would never admit your doubts; not to your adviser, and certainly not to anyone lower than that. No, you have to come off as confident. Confidence is key.

With him out of the way, you adjust your uniform, tugging at the shirt and adjusting the collar. You take a deep breath before stepping on the teledeck, destination set to none other than the notorious space pirate's ship. Minor hesitation, the push of a button and you're there, standing in the teledeck on an unfamiliar pirate ship. You're a genius, Rose Lalonde, that's why you're the admiral. Just keep telling yourself that.

You take a deep breath, but your composure's return is almost immediate when the glass cylinder opens. You're faced with her then, the infamous space pirate of lore, the one you've insisted and insisted and insisted again would be perfect for your crew. She'd come, you'd said. Now, you can only hope that you were right about all that.

You put on a small and polite smile, extending your hand to her. "Marquise," you say coolly, your eyes meeting hers. Inside, you don't feel quite as cool as you're coming off, but you're a master in the art of putting on airs. Either she is too, or she's actually not as intimidated as you are. You're not sure which you would prefer.

"Admiral," she responds, her voice coming off smooth like the silk of her shirt. You're not sure why you're noticing that, but then, the whole pirate getup comes off as a little silly to you. Of course, you would never say as much. Soon enough she'll be working for you and you'll only have to see her in uniform. 

"Shall we?" she continues. It might even have come across as attractive, if her voice didn't still carry a certain adolescence with it. That threw you off, if you were being perfectly honest with yourself. She looked like she was at least your age, but the cadence of her voice would imply someone much younger, perhaps even a teenager.

Your stomach forms a knot in your throat. What have you gotten yourself into? When your advisers realize she's a child, they'll think you're crazy... Not that they don't already .As for you? You're intrigued. If a child can orchestrate this level of space piracy, just imagine how clever she'll be as an adult... 

That's the moment when you decide you absolutely need her.


End file.
